


Finally

by Elvewen



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvewen/pseuds/Elvewen
Summary: “Maitimo, you don’t have to,” Fingon said, even though he wanted him to. “I can do it myself.” Maedhros smiled. The soft one that made his eyes crinkle and softened his entire countenance. His favorite smile. “I know you can. I want to.”
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 16
Kudos: 20
Collections: 2021 My Slashy Valentine





	Finally

**Author's Note:**

  * For [electroniccollectiondonut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/electroniccollectiondonut/gifts).



> For electroniccollectiondonut. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. I really enjoyed writing it for you!

Fingon leaned back against the stone wall, head bowed, hooking his fingers under his collar to loosen it. There was a persistent throbbing that had taken residence at the base of his skull, inching its way forward throughout the night - with every counselor, every courtier, every insipid piece of news that he was forced to listen to, while wearing his most uncomfortable clothes.

Being the heir to the Noldor did not become easier with time. He certainly knew how to, from long practice, dress and talk and act the part. But it never felt right. He always felt like someone pretending to play a role that they were not quite suited for. Which was true, Fingon thought. Had a few events transpired otherwise, someone else would be playing this part.

As he pushed the door to his rooms open, he was greeted with silence. Flickering candlelight led him to the living space and a red head poking out from the between the cushions. Fingon collapsed down onto the divan, letting his head fall onto Maedhros’s shoulder. Maedhros must have heard him come in, because he didn’t startle at the sudden contact. Instead, his fingers came to rest on Fingon’s head, lightly threading his hair. Fingon closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“Hello,” Maedhros said, voice pitched significantly lower, in deference to the quiet.  
“Hello,” Fingon mumbled back. “Gil asleep?”  
Maedhros nodded, “For a few hours now. He did not enjoy my rendition of the Great Journey. Apparently, I do not have the right range of voices for all the parts. I thought I was quite good, especially given that there were some 30 different speaking roles, but hey, Gil knows best.”

Fingon laughed, knowing exactly what Gil’s face would have been like when Maedhros didn’t do the voices the way he liked them. His disappointed blue eyes, scrunched up nose and frowning lips. 

“If it helps, Finderato is the only one who does them all correctly. I was very sternly told to never read that one to him long ago.”  
“Oh, good,” Maedhros laughed. “I thought I was the only one with such poor skills.”  
“Oh no. It’s you, me and Ada. Gil has very specific tastes.”  
“Really? I wonder where he gets that from.”  
Fingon frowned, “Don’t be cruel to me. I had a long night.”  
Maedhros pressed a kiss to Fingon’s temple. “Why don’t you lie down for a little while? And I will tell you all the ways one can fletch arrows wrong.”

Fingon squirmed his way down from Maedhros’s shoulders to his legs, settling on his lap. There would be no salvaging his robes but he couldn’t much bring himself to care. 

“Alright, enlighten me on how one fletches arrows incorrectly. Blunt, toy arrows, that too.”

“First, one starts by being an one handed, unreasonably tall redhead” Maedhros said lightly. “Then one proceeds to use the technique one’s father showed one. The same technique one’s brothers and people use to this day. And by the end of it all, Gil looked like I’d just insulted his very being.”

Fingon laughed, covering his eyes with his hand, “Oh, Eru, I’m sorry. He wasn't like that all night, was he?”

“No, he was wonderful,” Maedhros said softly. Almost wistfully. He always did like children, Fingon thought. And he had so many around him growing up. His musings about Feanor’s brood, caused Fingon to miss part of what Maedhros said next.

“… I’m much better at that than you are. So, you had better take note because soon enough, I will be his favourite.”

“You’ll be taking that title from Finderato, not me,” Fingon joked. He didn’t hear the whole sentence, but Finderato was Gil’s favourite in most things.

Maedhros gently massaged the base of Fingon’s skull. His fingers slowly alleviating the headache Fingon wasn’t sure how Maedhros knew he had. “I’m not so sure. He spent the whole night telling me all the things he likes to do with you. And his grandfather, but, mostly you. It was quite charming.”

“So, the evening went well?” Fingon asked hesitantly. 

It was the first time Maedhros had been alone with Gil. The first time he could spare an entire evening to spend with him. And Fingon found himself unusually nervous about the response. 

“The evening went well,” Maedhros confirmed. “We had some fruit, fletched a few of his arrows, those were remarkably accurate by the way, played with his toys and he handed me a tissue when I cried at the ending of the Great Journey.”

Fingon laughed, “You cried?”

“He told me you cried when you read it to him the other day, so just don’t.”

Maedhros turned his head to look at Fingon. “I know you were nervous. But we really did have a good time.” He then paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. “I like that you trust me with him.”

“Of course, I trust you. That was never in question,” Fingon said. He tilted his head to press a kiss to Maedhros’s cheek. 

“It’s just that Gil is,” Fingon sighed, “he is one of the most precious people in my life. And I want, no, I need you both to…”

“I know,” Maedhros said before Fingon could finish. “I know how important he is to you.”

“Yes, but, it’s not just him, Maitimo. You are both very important to me. And you hardly see him because you live a world away on a bloody ice mountain and I just,” Fingon paused to run his hands over his face. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I’m so tired. But, I suppose, if there was a point, it would be that he likes you, and I know you care about him, and I, I’m so happy about that. It’s, it’s good.”

“I do care about him,” Maedhros said, “And I care about you too, which is why, I’m asking you to go to bed.”

Fingon laughed as he slowly untangled himself from Maedhros, the blankets and cushions. He then yanked Maedhros up with him and they both walked down the hallway into the bedroom. 

“How’s your headache?” Maedhros asked.  
“It’s gone thanks to you,” Fingon said as he pushed open the bedroom door. “How did you even know I had one?”

“Your eyes.”

“My eyes what?”

Maedhros sat on the edge of the bed, “You right eye twitches when you have a headache and have spent an evening with your father’s court.”

Maedhros knelt in front of him, beginning the laborious process of getting him out of his formal wear, boots first. Fingon swallowed, bit his lip and looked down at him. “You noticed that, huh?”

Putting the first boot to the side, Maedhros starts on the next. “I also know that you’re probably hungry, because you never eat at those sessions. And you won’t eat now because it’s late.”

Maedhros set the second boot by the first and stood up, fingers plucking at the fastenings on his cloak. “At least have some water before bed or you will regret those glasses of wine come morning.”

Maedhros set the cloak on the bed and reach down to tug at his vambraces. The outer tunic came off next. He moved onto the fastening of his tunic when Fingon caught his hand. 

“Maitimo, you don’t have to,” Fingon said, even though he wanted him to. “I can do it myself.” Maedhros smiled. The soft one that made his eyes crinkle and softened his entire countenance. His favorite smile. “I know you can. I want to.”

There were years of unsaid sentiment behind those words. Years of longing and anger and loss. Frustration. Fear. And love. So much love that sometimes Fingon thought he would burst from it all if he dwelt on it for too long.

They never said anything. There were so many reasons why. But in moments like this, when Fingon felt like he was on the cusp of saying the most important words of his life, he could never remember what they were. 

Maedhros reached the end of the fastenings on his tunic and then gently pulled it off. He then gathered all the accoutrements and walked to the antechamber, returning with a long night shirt. 

“Are these alright?”

Fingon didn’t know why, but he laughed. Maedhros gave him a very tolerant look, not knowing what went through Fingon’s mind, but sure that there wasn’t any ill will there.

Fingon stood up and walked over to where Maedhros was, his tall frame lit by the sconce on the wall behind him. He stood on the tip of his toes and wrapped his arms around Maedhros’s neck. Maedhros let his head fall forward until their faces touched. 

He said it before he could rationalize his way out of it. “I love you.”

Maedhros gave him the same soft, crinkly eyed smile. He lifted his hand to cup Fingon’s face and said, “Well, it’s nice to finally hear that.”

Fingon stared at him. 

Maedhros laughed and leaned down to kiss Fingon soundly. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gil - Ereinion Gil-galad


End file.
